It's just some minutes to 7:57 in the morning, my usual train's scheduled time, and I'm rushing through the barriers in the train station on to the platform, my mind utterly fixated on the sheer inconvenience that missing this train would cause me, given the misfortunes of the English weather, when I notice this lady walking behind me, all grins in the air. As I've come to adapt and normalize within the last 7 months, I simply choose to keep keeping on, my face now on my phone. Finally on the platform, the train is delayed by a minute and so, given that there are no seats entirely vacant on the platform, the word entirely being very intentional, I simply chose to pace about, face on phone (I find Kenyans on Twitter especially most thrilling in the morning) as I wait.

I'm just taking a step in the opposite direction when, in the corner of my eye, I catch the same young lady still very much grinning, vehemently one might add, albeit not to anything specific, just grinning her face to different directions at random. I decide, against my better judgement, to take this as a cue to initiate a conversation. "Chatty she must be," I'm thinking to myself, and sure she is! Well, at least at first. It starts off with the weather, (Of course the weather! Thank you Kate Fox) then I ask her what her destination is, and then what she does. By now it's rather comfortable and I get to my normal fidgeting about the never ending culture shocks of being in a new country. After a while, I can see the train approaching the platform from afar, which is a good thing, because I'm starting to feel as though this has turned into a monologue, with me being the very esteemed participant. The train gets here, and in a last attempt to revive the dialogue, and in the hope of getting some good company for my journey, I ask: For how long have you been working there?

Nobody really warns you of how scrupulous you have to be when dealing with British people (especially those considered "younger"). Triggers most often, as I've come to observe, are usually everywhere and in all forms, and so are opinions and expressions. Now, in the case of my "subject" here, the response I get is, (very courteously ofcourse): "I'm so sorry, I'm really finding it hard to concentrate, but it's been great to meet you. Have a good day." To which I respond: "No worries at all, that's okay, have a wonderful day too, been a pleasure meeting you too." All this, mind you, whilst still putting on a very jovial face on her part. There and then it occurs to me, she might have been autistic or something similar, a snob perhaps, or has DID, or just extremely ambiverted. Anyway, we'll never find out (which is probably a good thing, considering). That, however, doesn't stop me reliving the horror, and knocking my head (literally), of that moment of awkwardness, most often never talked about, as I take my seat in the train.

Oh well, to cut the story short, the hope is that I'll never meet her on the platform again, and even if I do, I remain hopeful that neither of us will remember the other. Meanwhile, still keeping calm and carrying on.